Words on the Wall and Laughter Stalled
by HypotheticalEyeball
Summary: It was barely a poem / on the wall / in the final stall / where he hid / / In another situation / he would have laughed / but not today / today he crumbled / and fumbled to gather / the dispersing shards


I've had this written for far too long, so I figured it was about time to do something with the idle thoughts to which I needed a character for, chose Eijun, and ended up with all of this. Some of it is borderline crack, but it was a whole lot of fun to write, and hopefully you think it's fun to read.

* * *

Not even running was a suitable escape. Eijun's safe place. The comfort of his tire. They were both nullified. Because whether it be near or from afar, he was watching. Smiling from the distance. Coming closer to tell him to stop running and take care of himself. Or, even worse, in the bullpen.

No matter how loud he yelled, how fast he ran, how hard his feet pounded into the earth beneath him, he could still hear it. Eijun could never block out the sound of the ball hitting the mitt. A sound that was addicting when he pitched himself, but sickened him now.

And so he hid the first other place he could think of. Bushes were no good, his dorm contained hazards similar to the one he was trying to avoid, and people would know something was wrong if he went somewhere like the library. That was why he was in the restroom. Eijun walked to the end of the row of stalls, and opened the last one. It was empty. He entered and locked himself in, trying to think about something, anything, other than _him_.

He looked at the vandalized walls, searching for something legible. The janitors had long since given up on washing off the words and crude drawings. It was a lost cause, a battle with a predetermined victor. No matter how much they scrubbed, the students would still cover the stalls in pencil, ink, marker, and whatever else they could get their hands on. And permanent marker didn't come off.

Eijun saw a short poem-if it could be called that. It had almost definitely been written for laughs, but Eijun barely made it through the whole thing before he burst into tears. It frustrated him that something so simple, something so _stupid_ and _inconsequential_ could upset him so much. In another situation he would have laughed.

It read:

 _Here I sit,_

 _broken hearted,_

 _tried to shit,_

 _but only farted_

Had what he tried to do been like that? Something hard to avoid, that could result in something terrible? Something that couldn't be forced? Was he a bad person for wanting it? Had he been wrong to do so? Selfish to think that he'd get it? Doomed to fail from the start? Should he consider himself lucky that he hadn't gotten his way and had to experience greater misfortune?

He leaned his head against the door, not caring that it bumped the rusted hook with each sob shaking his body. His tears trickled down his chin. They traveled to his neck, but any warm fuzzy memories that would have normally surfaced at the tickling sensation morphed into more misery.

He had been so stupid to think that it would work. So ignorant not to notice. So selfish not to care. He felt like a horrible person. Like the lonely last stall in the old boys restroom was where he belonged. Because he wasn't worth it, and he should never have thought that he was.

Eijun traced a heart with his finger, watching the few tears that dripped onto the walls slide towards the ground, mixing with the grime and turning black long before they hit the tile.

That seemed like a good idea. He pushed his back up against the wall, lower, lower, lower, until he felt the floor close underneath him.

He didn't care that he was a mess. He didn't care about the tears or the dirt or how pathetic he must have looked. Because it didn't matter. Even if nobody saw, it didn't matter.

It didn't make him any better or any worse. He was still stupid, idiotic, oblivious, selfish Eijun.

His fingers found a forgotten marker laying on the floor beside him. He wanted to stand and cut jagged lines through each heart on the wall, to scribble through every phrase and image, and write his own story, only to regret it and cross it out too. But his limbs lacked the strength, for his spirit was no longer giving him the drive. The mentality that had kept him going for so many years had cracked. It happened every once in a while. Not often. Not for long. But when it did, it brought him emotional pain greater than any physical pain he could ever remember feeling.

Eijun felt his erratic breathing gradually slow. His fingers released the marker. A calm apathy washed over him. He pushed himself up to stand on his feet. He slid the lock to the left, the door swaying open, closed, open, closed. But not more than a centimetre.

He could go back. He could bury himself in blankets, his face in his pillow. His teammates were used to his overdramaticsm, so they wouldn't think much of his tearstained face. They would just chalk it up to another tantrum. He was, after all, just a big baby. Nobody would suspect anything.

Eijun pushed open the door, leaving his secret in the last stall, at the end of the row, in the old boys restroom.

He walked up the row, counting each stall as he passed it. Another distraction would come, and he would forget all about this. The next time he came, he might read another poem on the wall, in the final stall, where he hid. But not now. Now he would move on, pretend it had never happened, and be glad that though his outlet, and his partnership with his tire were things he could no longer enjoy the luxury of, he still had a safe place where he could hide until he was calm once more.

He came to the other end of the row, the end closest to the door, right next to the sinks. He planned to stop by the hand dryer to warm himself forcefully from the outside in, and see if maybe, doing so wasn't as far fetched an idea as he though.

But someone else was there. The water was on, there was a pair of glasses on the counter, and a boy stood in front of one of the sinks.

The boy splashed the water up from the sink onto his face, stray droplets hitting the mirror. They dripped down, leaving lines in the grimy surface that glinted in the dim light.

You had to flip a switch if you wanted the flickering bulbs to help at all, but neither boy had bothered. The darkness was much more soothing. A fitting scene for how they felt.

Eijun moved closer, not paying attention to his own movements, stopping right before he hit the other boy. He felt warmer next to him, even though there was no logical reason for him to. Perhaps it was that he liked the thought of another person not minding his presence. The boy didn't seemed to have noticed him, but after all he had felt, his tired body allowed him that small indulgence. He could pretend that the boy knew, and was allowing him to be close. Pretending was good enough.

Eijun let out a sigh, and the boy started, spinning around to face him, startled. Eijun saw fear and hurt and anger, betrayal and confusion and sadness in his eyes, and wondered how he had not seen it before. He reached out, as if in a trance, and wrapped his cold, needy arms around the boy, drawing himself closer and resting his head on his chest. Forget the hand dryer. His subconscious demanded his body get a hug.

The boy stiffened, and Eijun didn't bother wondering why he didn't push him away, or why not a single word left either boy's lips. He felt the boy's arms circle him, and smiled, his eyelids fluttering shut as a chin came to rest on his head. Perhaps they both needed it.

They stood like that for a while, until Eijun had gathered his thoughts enough to realize that he had absolutely no idea who he was hugging. He shifted, looking up to see warm, familiar eyes gazing back into his own.

Eijun felt his relaxed body tense, every muscle tightening as he realized that the boy in front of him was the same boy he had been trying to get away from.

The glasses on the counter, the baseball cap he was wearing sideways. Eijun should have guessed. He brainstormed ways to keep his secret, and whatever fragile dignity he had, safe, when a low, hoarse voice broke the silence.

Miyuki lifted a hand up to cup Eijun's tearstained cheek, "Are you okay?"

The seriousness in Miyuki's voice, and the sudden sound, startled Eijun, but he managed to nod his head, disentangling himself from their embrace.

"Sorry." He said, unable to look Miyuki in the eye.

Miyuki's concern was joined by confusion, "For what?"

"I-" he began, " _Everything_. I'm sorry for being stupid and selfish and wasting your time and-

"Sshh." Miyuki cut him off, eyes burning with an emotion that Eijun could not name, reminding him again of his shortcomings. He wished he could have been more empathetic, more understanding.

"Don't say that. I was worried about you. You made me happy when you were around. You made me _care_ about you. And now you're saying things like _this_?"

"I was wrong, Miyuki. You're not the evil one. _I_ am. I'm a burden. I'm-

"Not." Miyuki said fiercely, " _I_ am the one who should have paid more attention. _I'm_ the one who should have noticed how you've been recently. I'm-"

"The reason I need to be a better person."

"You're _already_ a good person."

"See?" Eijun replied, "This is what I'm talking about. You go say all these nice things to me like-like I do all this great stuff, and I'm actually important to you, but really, really you're important to me, and I'm just a _pathetic_ little burden who can't stand on his own, because he likes being held up. Because as I much as I say I'm independent and I can take care of myself, I'm _not_. And _I can't_. And you should just forget about me and leave me where I belong in my-" Eijun stopped himself before he spiralled any more out of control, or gave away something he would later regret. His mind could barely grasp the words he fumbled for anyway.

Miyuki sighed, "I need you to come with me. You hear that? _I need you!_ You're _not_ insensitive, you're _not_ useless, and you're definitely _not a burden_! Here I am feeling bad about what I've been-and you're-it's all my fault."

Eijun was still as Miyuki's grip on him slacked, and Miyuki sank down onto the floor.

He expected Miyuki to snap at him, and tell him not to speak a word of this to anyone, but Miyuki just sat on the floor, looking infinitely guilty and broken.

Eijun hated seeing it. He hated how Miyuki was in pieces and it was his fault. He shouldn't be the one suffering for Eijun's mistakes.

Eijun picked Miyuki's glasses up off of the counter, and ripped a piece of paper towel from the roll before realizing how scratchy it was and discarding it. Instead, Eijun sat next to Miyuki, wiping tears with his shirt, and gently placing his glasses back on.

"Maybe..." Eijun breathed, arms tight around Miyuki.

His wet cheek stuck to Miyuki's hair, but judging by the way Miyuki buried his face in Eijun's shoulder, he didn't care. His glasses should have dug into Eijun, but somehow, if they did, he didn't notice and couldn't bring himself to care. He almost wanted them to, so that the minute physical pain could have the chance to bring him back to Earth.

"...Maybe it's both of our faults. Maybe neither of us is evil, but both of us are stupid."

Eijun worried for a moment that Miyuki was choking, or that he'd started crying harder, when he realized that Miyuki was laughing.

"That is one of the stupidest things I have ever heard you say." Miyuki whispered, "But I think you're right."

Eijun didn't know whether to feel flattered or offended, so he simply leaned into Miyuki, enjoying his closeness. He loved Miyuki more than he should.

"You too, Bakamura."

"Huh?"

"Didn't you say-wait, what?"

Miyuki had raised his head, and his face was right in front of Eijun's. Eijun hoped that the darkness hid his flush. He hadn't said it out loud, had he?

"I though you said you..." Miyuki trailed off.

"I think I did."

"You can think?"

"Of course I can!"

"But obviously you can't stop yourself from admitting how much you love me."

"Yes I-wait what?" Eijun screeched.

"I love you too, Bakamura."

"I-I-I-"

"Need to shut up and compose myself so that I can form coherent words?"

"How can you say that so easily?"

"I can't. It's all practice and force of habit. But you totally fell for it." Miyuki smirked.

"See? This is why everyone says you have a horrible personality! I can never tell if you're lying!"

"Everything I've said so far has been true."

Eijun peered into Miyuki's eyes, his heart beating wildly in his chest. Had what he'd wanted been obtainable? Was it something that Miyuki wanted too? Had it been like that the whole time?

Miyuki ran his thumb along Eijun's cheek.

"Don't cry anymore, okay?" His voice held a gentleness Eijun had never imagined was possible, "I hate seeing you looking this broken."

"Well, I don't like seeing you like this either."

"So if I'm happy, you'll be happy?"

"No."

"What?"

"I'm a selfish person and I only want you to smile for me...But not the scheming bastard smile. The _real_ one."

Miyuki chuckled, "Pitchers sure are an egotistical bunch. But I can't say I'm any better. I don't want you to smile for anyone else either."

Eijun's eyes widened as Miyuki leaned in, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. It lasted barely a moment, but it was sweet and gentle and made Eijun feel like his chest was glowing and floating and lighting up the entire room.

"How about we only do that with each other instead?"

* * *

The next morning, Miyuki went to practice feeling as if he was walking on air. He had no idea what the weather was like, but the warmth in his chest filled his body, and everything seemed bright. An indulgent smile flitted across his lips, a rare genuine one. It wasn't often that he was this openly happy, so Miyuki allowed himself to enjoy it.

"What's with that face, Miyuki? You're gonna scare away the first years." Kuramochi teased, "Did you finally get a girlfriend?"

"Thank you. But I don't kiss and tell." Miyuki responded.

"So you were with a girl!"

"I can't say." Miyuki shrugged.

Kuramochi's grin faded, and he seemed to remember something that had been troubling him.

"Do you know where Sawamura went last night?" He asked.

"No. Why?" It wasn't a lie. He had only run into him leaving in the restroom.

"He looked pretty upset yesterday, but I didn't see him running. Furuya came by because he was looking for you, but he didn't know where Sawamura was either."

"Why was Furuya looking for me in your room?"

"He asked if Sawamura had said anything about asking you to catch for him, but the bullpen was empty, so obviously he hadn't."

"Aww, were you worried about us?"

"Why would I worry about you? You're always going off weird places."

"Oooh, so you were worried about Sawamura." Miyuki drawled, "That's why you're always texting Wakana. You don't want them to get together because you have a thing for Sawamura."

"What the heck, Miyuki? I was just making sure you weren't off in some corner strangling him! I'm trying to be a good senpai!"

That hurt. "Now why would I do that?"

"He does complain about you a lot."

"Aww, he talks about me? I hope he says good things."

"Are you even listening?" Kuramochi griped.

"Yes."

"Did you get laid yesterday or something? Because that expression is seriously starting to creep me out."

"No."

"Ha! Got you! And you said you didn't kiss and tell."

"Well it's not like you know anything. For all you know I could have filmed Ryousuke making out with his reflection in the old restrooms, and made a foolproof plan to blackmail him."

"Ryosuke made out with his reflection in the old restroom? Could he even see it in that disgusting mirror?" Kuramochi shrieked.

Miyuki slapped a hand over Kuramochi's mouth, "I was joking. Shut up before he-"

"What have I been doing?" Ryosuke asked, appearing suddenly.

Kuramochi jumped, "St-startling people?"

"Really? And what's this I hear about you and Sawamura?"

"N-nothing. Miyuki's just being horrible as usual, except with a creepier smile?" Kuramochi squeaked.

Miyuki smirked. Now, _this_ was going to be fun to watch.

"Why would I ever kiss a mirror?"

"I don't know. The ones in the old restrooms are gross and dirty."

"Like you."

"Well Miyuki said you had no problem with that."

"Don't bring me into this. I never said anything." Miyuki took a step back.

"Miyuki knows that I am not attracted to myself. Right?" Ryousuke turned to Miyuki, a threat hidden beneath his pleasant smile.

"Right. But apparently you're attracted to Kuramochi."

"Where did you get that idea?" Ryousuke asked.

"Well, if Kuramochi says you kissed a grimy mirror, and then you say the dirty mirror looked like Kuramochi..." Miyuki trailed off.

"Miyuki! You're not helping!" Kuramochi complained.

"How? I'm familiarizing Ryousuke with the idea of attraction towards you. Isn't that helpful?"

"What does that help?"

"What indeed..." Ryousuke echoed.

At that moment, Sawamura appeared, giving Miyuki a valid excuse to abscond.

"He looked way to happy to see Sawamura." Ryousuke commented.

"It was a convenient escape." Kuramochi said, "But he was weirdly happy even before I started talking to him."

"Didn't you say that Sawamura was pretty torn up last night?"

"Yeah. Wait. You were listening to that much of our conversation?"

Ryousuke chose to ignore Kuramochi's inquisition, "He appears to be in high spirits today."

"'I don't kiss and tell' my ass. What have those two been up to?"

Ryousuke moved closer to Kuramochi, "What can we get up to?"

Kuramochi leapt away, red-faced and spluttering.

Ryousuke only laughed.

"I love your reactions." He said.

* * *

I originally just wanted to write some angst, but I needed chars, so this somehow turned into Daiya no Ace fluff. I might write a chapter from Miyuki's point of view, or use this as a chapter for another of my stories. I haven't decided. Any suggestions or corrections are appreciated.


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